BY DIANE ANDERSON-MINSHALL

Last year the testosterone-fueled Armageddon pulled in $400 million worldwide. But such flicks may be a dying breed. The action-film industry is in a state of flux: with its biggest stars such as Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger hitting middle age, an unconventional new breed of action heroes has arisen, typified by actors such as Will Smith and Michelle Yeoh. In an industry where women still don't command the money or clout of their male counterparts, what are the chances of a real feminist action-hero revolution?

From Barbarella to Jackie Brown
Nary an action film hit the screens before 1985, when heroic narratives such as the Indiana Jones series were labelled "adventure" fare. Soon a hybrid of violence, fantasy, muscle, and justice gave birth to an action genre that shifted from sheer, dumb brutality to self-mocking send-ups of masculinity. Now, nearly 80 percent of all summer films fall under that particular action umbrella. In fact, only eight films -- six of them action flicks of some sort -- made more than $100 million last year.

Action movies have, in fact, become the very mirror by which Americans inspect their variegated complexion. Most sociologists will agree: one $300-million Terminator shapes the public's consciousness more than a decade's worth of art-house films ever will.

Jane Fonda's Barbarella was the first female action-film hero to take up arms. Barbarella -- a futuristic astronaut from a world in which competition, conflict, and sex are obsolete -- is an object of both male fantasy and feminist utopic desire. Yet she's flighty, afraid of women, and eager to please men. And she changes clothes too many times: black rubber, silver lamè, white PVC.

"The need to present a different image is a mark of psychological and emotional instability," argues critic Stella Bruzzi in Undressing Cinema. Thus, Barbarella's numerous costume changes nullify the femme fatale's potential danger. The more costume changes she makes, the weaker she becomes. Bruzzi insists that really dangerous women (Catherine Trammel in Basic Instinct, for example) present a heavily consistent image.  

It would be years before other women entered the action/adventure fray, although a few African American women in the seventies became blaxploitation action heroines in their own right by exploring the complex, ambiguous tension around race, gender, and violence. The most notable among them was Pam Grier, a butch actress (but femme enough for the boys to admire) whose career was recently resurrected in Jackie Brown. Still, white middle-class America was never entirely comfortable with the urban action genre that Grier pop-ularized, preferring to wait and embrace stars such as Men in Black's Will Smith who emerged in the nineties.    

Arnold ain't what he used to be
Perhaps the time has never been riper for a change in action films. The old guard, the male heroic agents, aren't what they used to be. Neither, for that matter, is masculinity. "The more drastic reaffirmations of rugged masculinity in recent films," argues Keele University criminologist Richard Sparks, "are in reaction against instabilities in current notions of masculine identities."

He also insists that masculinity these days is no longer "performed" unproblematically: it's either reasserted with some vehemence (backlash) or else cloaked in irony. Nowhere has this hyperbolized masculinity been more apparent than in the hypermuscular physiques of America's beloved action heroes. Now, these guys are simply getting too old to stay ripped.

Sylvester Stallone's last action film, 1996's Daylight, bombed. Stallone fired his agent, cut his salary by two-thirds, gained fifty pounds, and moved on to indie fare (e.g. Copland). Arnold Schwarzenegger, who recently underwent heart surgery, hasn't headlined a project since 1996's Jingle All the Way. Kurt Russell's recent action folly Soldier (deemed "military porn" by critics) cost $75 million to make -- and earned a paltry $15 million. Jean-Claude Van Damme's latest martial-arts action flick, the $25-million Legionnaire, is going straight to cable.    

But the biggest reason for the change comes from the audience itself: teenagers. "Teens kind of decide what's cool in pop culture, and adults follow," says Warner Brothers president Jamie Kellner. Kellner's network's ratings rose 19 percent -- the only studio to see an increase this season -- because of the growing youth market and WB's girl-powered action programming such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer.    

Not only is the youth market attractive to advertisers, it's also an increasing demographic. The teen population is expected to grow to more than 50 million in the next six years -- more than twice the growth rate of any other age group. Teens (these days, at least) want diversity and girl power. Women in Hollywood, such as Deep Impact director Mimi Leder, have muscled in on the teen action, drawing the under-21 crowd to her flicks. Deep Impact succeeded on a number of levels. A woman's movie with a clear yet subversive lesbian-feminist narrative, Deep disrupted the dominant pattern of objectified images of women in action films. It banked on lesser-known actors (Tea Leoni, Elijah Wood) instead of $20-million stars. And it made a shitload of money at the box office ($150 million and counting). Not too bad for what is basically, at heart, a women's movie.    

Yeoh and the female franchise
While Mel Gibson's Lethal Weapon IV pulled in $140 million, hushing rumors that the 42-year-old actor was joining Schwarzenegger and Stallone on the other side of the hill, most critics acknowledged the real action in the film came from the kicking chops of Renee Russo and the comedy chops of youthful African American actor Chris Rock. Russo, an incredible fighter and intelligent cop who kicked ass on-screen while pregnant, is, in fact, the only hope for saving the Lethal franchise.

Although Russo is much younger than Gibson she's no spring chicken, and action is a young person's game. The four women most sought for Warner Brothers's remake of the German female jailbird film Bandits -- actresses Angelina Jolie and Neve Campbell, and chanteuses Jewel and Lauryn Hill -- are all tykes compared to Russo. Quentin Tarantino's choice for a sixties superspy remake of Modesty Blaise is 22-year-old Natasha Henstridge. The upcoming Star Wars prequel, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, will feature the not-yet-legal Natalie Portman.

Unfortunately, the most powerful women in Hollywood are simply too old to make an action franchise happen, and Hollywood will never bet on an action film that doesn't have a shot at a sequel. Alfre Woodard, the gun-toting revolutionary of Star Trek Insurrection is pushing 45, and erstwhile Cat Woman Michelle Pfieffer is 41 (and fast on the mommy-drama tracks). Jodie Foster, 35, prefers to make "thinking" films -- even when she does do action (such as the $101 million-grossing Contact), it's obtuse, intelligent, and way too long. The grand dame of box-office draws, Julia Roberts, made one giant flop of a foray into action flicks (I Love Trouble).

Perhaps the biggest hope has been in Hong Kong-Malaysian fighting machine Michelle Yeoh. An action figure in Asian films, the 100-pound, 5'4" Yeoh came into American films via a Jackie Chan vehicle. But her splashy screen debut in the James Bond actioner Tomorrow Never Dies disappointed fans who expected only roundhouse chops and nonstop kicks: at the end of the film, Yeoh was rendered helpless and had to be saved by a clearly less-capable Bond.     

"I knew Michelle Yeoh was going to be just another Bond girl," argued Michael Kang, director of the new Asian American film A Waiter Tomorrow. Kang blames Hollywood for stereotyping Asians and limiting the range of actors such as Yeoh, Chan, and Jet Li. "When you see these films Jackie Chan and Michelle Yeoh are doing in Hollywood, I'm never surprised by the content."

One could list a myriad of flicks that offer formidable female action figures (Blue Steel, Bandit Queen, Batman Returns) -- and ten times that number that have failed at the box office (Tank Girl, The Avengers, The Replacement Killers, Batman & Robin).    

The three mainstream films with the most franchise potential failed to usher in a new era. Sigourney Weaver's Alien series was once the one to emulate, but its terrible third installment boasted Weaver as a bald, battered Ripley sans soul, while last summer's Alien Resurrection -- which reaped only $45 million -- transformed Ripley into a dispensable antiheroine.

Likewise, Barb Wire was a shoo-in for a female Batman-like franchise, but when it hit screens critics railed on actress Pamela Anderson's wooden performance. Most pundits, however, failed to see that the main problem with Barb Wire had little to do with "Pambo's" dizzying array of breast-baring bodices. The plot -- secondary to pulchritude in this futuristic, anti-establishment film -- never showed a sense of Barb's obstacle, her mission, or her losses. Unlike Bruce Wayne's alter ego, we never glimpse Barb's inner demons.

Long Kiss Goodnight, on the other hand, planted Geena Davis in the middle of the most violent female-fronted action film ever made. Full of spectacular stunts and special effects, Kiss was loaded with symbolism about women's stereotyped roles in life (especially our ability to give life versus men's eagerness to take it away) and the dichotomy that exists within the narrow choices with which we're presented (career or motherhood, male or female, gay or straight). Critics -- the same male critics who espoused the beauty of the blood-soaked Die Hard series -- literally warned viewers away from Long Kiss, calling it a "wild ride not for the squeamish" and urging people to watch out for its strong bloody violence and foul language.    

Sexism in the genre
Even if contemporary audiences demand heroic women, industry officials still worry that a woman can't carry an action film. So when Annette Bening demanded a $3-million salary for the summer flick The Siege, Fox executives balked. The sluggish political thriller about government response to Arab terrorist attacks had already forked over $5 million to Bruce Willis for what amounted to two weeks of work and given star Denzel Washington $12 million for his four months' tenure. "Women aren't supposed to be a factor in action films," Siege producer Lynda Orbst told reporters. "But this woman is consequential. She isn't just an accessory."

"Hollywood is dedicated to reinforcing the lie that women are inferior," argues feminist film critic Molly Haskell. And action films in particular can be brutal on women. Athletic Ming-Na Wen spent most of Street Fighter tied up in a little red dress, homophobia and misogyny literally coursed through the veins of Con Air -- and don't even get critics started on True Lies.    

"The most unwatchable thing I've seen in a recent action movie," says A Byzantine Journey author John Ash, "had nothing to do with mass destruction. It was the prolonged humiliation of Jamie Lee Curtis in the inexcusably misogynistic central striptease scene episode of True Lies."

Arguably, seismic shifts have rippled below the surface for years. Natasha Henstridge's oft-undressed antiheroine in Species wowed audiences, who rented the home video in droves. Henstridge, a former tomboy (who critics described as "Claudia Schiffer mixed with Uma Thurman") did many of her own stunts and fight sequences. While much of Species's big success was attributed to Henstridge's good looks, lesbian viewers found other things to like in the film and its star: as a parable about gender and reproduction, the film borrowed liberally from feminist books and sci-fi films of the past.    

One of the most brilliant action films is Joan Severence's 1995 flick Black Scorpion. A small-studio release, Black Scorpion is a high camp-action film in the classic Batman vein. Like Batman, Black Scorpion dons a fetching, muscle-defining black outfit and mask. Her confidante (Argyle instead of Alfred) is black, disenfranchised, and clearly fey. In a self-mocking moment, the film shows a television reporter discussing the Scorpion's support among feminist groups who support her crimefighting but deride her costume. When Scorpion finally decides to fuck a man, she tops him; when she's done, she shocks him into sleep and leaves him to wake hours later, alone and branded with a Scorpion tattoo.

"Angels" daring to tread
Twenty years after "Charlie's Angels" became part of our cultural landscape, the hottest new project in Hollywood is a film version of the seventies television show. The show still has resonance: dozens of Web sites are devoted to it, it runs in eternal syndication; Farrah Fawcett still gets asked about her feathered mane; and the butchest of the babe trio, Kate Jackson (now a 49-year-old breast cancer survivor) appeared recently on the hit Fox series Ally McBeal. Talk about zeitgeist: It's no wonder every A-list actress in Hollywood is vying for a part.

While the much-touted cast remains unsigned, most industry experts are expecting to see a pairing of Michelle Yeoh, Jada Pinkett Smith, and Jenny McCarthy in the roles: call it "the brawn, the brain, and the blonde." More than the stars of a pop culture artifact, Yeoh, Smith, and McCarthy represent different facets of the ultimate postmodern action woman. She's intelligent (Smith is amazingly learned), she is beautiful but hates to be limited by that beauty (McCarthy is bent on getting recognized for more than her looks), and she's tough (Michelle Yeoh is clearly the top female martial artist in the world).

These women also represent diversity -- not just race, but class background and perceived womanliness -- and street credibility. Each of these actresses has made feminist moves in her career, and each has lambasted Hollywood for stereotyping. It seems obvious that this would be a dream cast for any action film, especially a modern remake of a self-mocking women's television show that catapulted every actress involved to fame.

"It's absolutely not a jiggle movie," said Angels screenplay writer Ed Solomon (of Men in Black fame). He assured critics that the movie will be tougher, hipper, funnier, and smarter than the television series. Solomon told Entertainment Weekly that the women will speak nearly every language in the world, and will "know how to escape heavy artillery by scaling up the sides of chateaus and skiing down luge runs."     

If the producers don't sign that star cast on, though, rumor has it that producer Gary Fleder and New Line executives may be courting them soon for Danger Girls. Based on a comic series, the Danger Girls are a group of tough young women who are recruited to fight evil. New Line paid dearly for the screen rights, making it a much sought-after project.

Besides Angels and Girls, another long-awaited action project will come to the big screen later this year, this time from the littlest screen: computer gaming's Laura Croft. Eidos Interactive debuted Croft, a female Indiana Jones (who happens to be built like a brick house) in the game Tomb Raider. Perhaps more than any other PC game figure, Laura Croft has crossover appeal. Game-playing men in the 13- to 35-year-old category love to see buxom women running around: the difference with Croft is that women like her, too. Sure, she's well endowed -- but she's also educated, adventurous, and disowned from her high-falutin family because of her independence.

Women are finding in kung fu films something you just can't find in the states: really strong women. Women who fight. To boot, the dress code for women in martial arts films is on par with men: sometimes women are scantily clad, but men are almost always half-dressed. If you compare Top Fighter (a documentary which profiles fighting men like Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Jet Li, and Van Damme) with its female-focused sequel, you'll see far less clothing in the men's version.

Girl-girl action
Feminists have long railed on action films and on the women who take up arms (unless they're named Thelma and Louise), arguing that co-opting male violence is not the feminist answer. But many lesbian feminists have applauded women action figures as strong role models for younger women.

The new trend of women in action has ramifications for lesbians far beyond the "empowered women" scene. In 1999 cinema politics is being re-identified: ensemble casts almost always include a gay or lesbian figure. Including a lesbian has become de riguer, so odds are good that at least one member of the action trios in Charlie's Angels or Danger Girls will be a lesbian (since Jada Pinkett Smith lost the lesbian part in Set It Off to Queen Latifah, my bet is on her).

Even without an overt gay presence, lesbians may feel their gaydars triggered. "Ambiguous lesbian films," argues Teresa DeLaurentis, author of the cinema critique Alice Doesn't,"offer their heterosexual female audience with a 'safe' means of engaging with a lesbian fantasy scenario by offering them at the same time the possibility of denying this fantasy."     

The messages garnered from the new action heroines will surely appeal to young women forming their sexual and gender identification. "Mulan just wants to be herself," says actress Ming-Na Wen, who voiced the gender-bent action heroine. "She proves that if you are true to who you are, you will accomplish a lot more than if you try to fake it through life. I think that's a great message for kids and adults: to follow their hearts." Buffy star Sarah Michelle Gellar concurs with Wen: she recently told an online chat group that she feels great about being a role model for lesbians.

And let's not forget a sexy side effect of women action heroes: the outfits. While fun to look at, the outfits, according to more than one scholar, actually represent what theorist Joan Riviere calls the "mask of womanliness." Riviere rejects femininity as a construction of male fantasy, arguing that women who wish for masculinity may put on a mask of womanliness (sometimes literally, as is the case of Barb Wire) to avert anxiety and the retribution feared from men. Thus, these action heroines disguise their masculine strength behind femininity as the primary way to reject male supremacy.

So while these women can titillate us with their appealingly strong bodies, they can also dismiss our notions of masculinity, and channel our fascination with violence into a discussion about why it has so ensnared our con-sciousness. Women action heroes represent a modern world in which nothing is linear, assumed, given: shades of gray have replaced the black and white of John Wayne's world.

"America isn't ready to accept sexual ambivalence in its male action heroes," says psychologist Michael Ventura. "America still wants them to make clear moral choices even if they have to struggle to get there. None of this half-angel, half-devil stuff. In a man, that's still seen as somehow sinister; in a woman it's seductive."

The Next Step
    Action film as a formula, or genre if you will, has run its course in the hands of men. Male action actors must step aside for the genre to metamorph and must refashion their filmic identity -- finally -- after women who lead. And fight. And kill.While dick flicks that are hostile to women can still make billions at the box office, let's not forget that last year, movies featuring a cross-dressing she-warrior, a karate-chopping mom, and a feminist responding to disaster gave Armageddon the biggest run for its money.